


Apathy

by Actias



Series: Mycroft tid-bits [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Characters in high school, Gen, Mycroft cares, Oneshot, moriarty vs mycroft, psychopaths
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-04
Updated: 2016-09-04
Packaged: 2018-08-13 00:04:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7954297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Actias/pseuds/Actias
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You should have been born a psychopath,” Jim said casually. “You’ve got to admit it would have been easier.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Apathy

**Author's Note:**

> I like this one.  
> Enjoy a little of something that could have maybe happened.

“You stand out.”

An Irish-accented voice spoke from next to him. He went over the information he had gathered; age, height, which school he went to. 

Without turning, he answered, “I am aware.”

A small laugh, “You don’t talk like them either.”

“Beg your pardon?” He turned to look at the black haired teenager beside him. He was grinning, his dark brown eyes twinkling under the gymnasium lights.

“James,” the teenage boy said putting his hand out. “But you can call me Jim.”

He shook Jim’s hand. “Mycroft,” he responded.

“I know.” Jim shrugged and smiled.

They stood side by side in silence, observing the volleyball game being played on the court. Points were exchanged, people cheered. Essentially, it was all very  _ dull _ .

Jim sighed excessively, like if he was compensating for the one Mycroft repressed out of politeness. “They’re all so  _ boring _ .”

Mycroft glanced sideways. Jim met his eyes.

“Well what?” he said after seeing the blank look in the other boy’s eyes. “Don’t you agree? They’re all so  _ predictable _ . That’s why I chose you, you’ll be able to last me a day.” He smiled again.

Mycroft wondered if it was a compliment or an insult.  _ A little of both _ , he decided. The boy spotted his younger brother pick his way through the crowd, shoving and disturbing most of the spectators. He groaned internally, bracing himself for whatever reason brought him here.

The younger boy tripped his way to Mycroft, his black curls bouncing before gathering himself.

“Sherlock, to what do I owe this pleasure.” He knew his impatience was showing, it wouldn’t matter, Sherlock would have seen it anyways. It was nothing new.

“Our school’s team got blackmailed,” he huffed.

“Yes, I suspected.” Mycroft side glanced at Jim in the process. 

Sherlock stared at Jim, trying to deduce what his brother could see in this boy.

“Richard,” Jim introduced himself to Mycroft’s younger brother.

“Yes, I know, “ Sherlock said carefully. “You did it, didn’t you?”

“Who else would there be?” James smiled at him.

“Why?”

He shrugged. “It’s more fun.”

Sherlock boiled up in rage but his elder brother’s hand on his shoulder stopped him from lashing out. 

“Don’t let your emotions make decisions for you,” Mycroft said. His younger brother sent a stink eye to the two older boys before crossing the gym towards the ref table.

“You should have been born a psychopath,” Jim said casually. “You’ve got to admit it would have been easier.”

“Richard?” Mycroft asked.

“I keep Jim for special people.”

From across the gym, he could see the referees staring at him while his brother had an argument with the home team players. Deciding he didn’t need to be humiliated, Mycroft stepped out of the crowded room through a side door. Jim followed.

They walked down from the third floor to the first and then out onto the school patio.

“What’s so fun in blackmailing?” Mycroft asked.

“It’s funny, watching people sweat. They’re so  _ amusing _ . Constantly trying to keep their honour whilst also trying to lose.”

Mycroft couldn’t quite understand that type of pleasure. He found everyone so frustratingly ignorant. They observed the sun glow orange as it descended on the horizon.

Jim interrupted the silence. “You probably should go stop him.”

He meant Sherlock. Mycroft scanned James for any kind of intentions but he was met by a wide grin. He knew that the other boy probably issued it as a warning. And as usual, it was probably rightly placed. Sherlock could get hurt. No, knowing Jim, it was almost a guarantee. There was only a moment's hesitation before Mycroft dashed back up the stairs and onto the third floor. As soon as he crossed the landing, a teacher beckoned him. 

“Your brother took a blow to the head.”

Mycroft clenched his jaw in anger and burst into the gym. In the middle of the court was his brother, lying on the floor, knocked out cold.

“Sherlock!” Mycroft called. He kneeled at his side and examined the damage. His nose was bloody and broken, he probably had a black eye too.

“He was lucky,” Jim said from over his shoulder.

Mycroft turned to face the boy, anger flushing his cheeks red. He cursed him for being the cause of this, he cursed him for ruining a simple volleyball match, he cursed him for keeping that stupid grin on his face throughout everything, and then he cursed himself for not being careful enough, he cursed himself for caring and feeling.

_ You should have been born a psychopath _ , the voice echoed in his head.


End file.
